Baby Steps
by truhekili
Summary: Meredith's first few days as a new mother. Set about one year after episode 6:19. Meredith/Alex/Cristina friendship. Fab3-ish semi-fluff. Disclaimer: I did not create these characters and do not profit from this work. One-shot. Complete.


"You can pick him up," Meredith called sleepily from across the room, suddenly awake as she sat up slowly in her hospital bed. "He doesn't bite," she added, struggling not to giggle.

"Huh," Alex muttered, his head snapping around as he pulled his hand back abruptly from the bassinet, as if he'd been caught stealing from her purse.

"You'll be baby-sitting," she pointed out. "You might as well get used to it."

"No freaking way," he protested, peering down suspiciously at the squirming infant.

"It's you or Cristina," she noted, trying not to laugh again.

"Yang?" Alex snorted, rolling his eyes at her as he touched the baby's hand.

"Bring him over here, please," Meredith insisted, motioning with her arms as Alex grimaced slightly, before scooping up the child and surveying him more closely.

"Isn't he handsome?" Meredith asked. "Just like his father."

"You sure he's McDreamy's?" Alex asked as he sternly examined the baby.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she huffed, swatting at Alex's arm as he approached her bedside.

"He's totally bald," Alex observed, motioning with his chin toward the infant he still held. "Like McDreamy was ever bald?"

"He's not bald," Meredith protested, her fingers gesturing to the baby's head. "His hair's just very fine. I think he may have split ends, though" she added with a sigh.

"How can a bald kid have spilt ends?" Alex asked, looking from the baby back to her with a puzzled frown.

"Never mind," she insisted, exhaling heavily.

"You'd seriously sic Yang on him?" Alex muttered, holding the baby tighter as he shook his head, grimacing.

"What was that, Evil Spawn?" Cristina crowed, briskly walking into the room with two thick patient charts in tow, and sizing him up. "Oh, you finally have a room mate at your intellectual level?"

"We were talking about baby sitters," Meredith interjected, cutting Alex off before he could reply.

"Not me," Cristina retorted, as she proudly hefted the white binders. "I have more important things to do."

"What could be more important than my new son?" Meredith teased, wrinkling her nose as she smirked at Cristina.

"Oh, please. Anyone can make one of those," she snorted, motioning to where Alex stood with the baby. "Even Evil Spawn could spawn," she added with a shudder. "But a valve replacement? How many people can do that?"

"Robot's got a point," Alex agreed, nodding and shifting the baby to his other arm as he brushed the child's fingers.

"Mer," Cristina asked, suddenly concerned. "Why is Evil Spawn holding your kid?"

"I think Daniel likes him," Meredith noted, almost laughing as Alex shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"Daniel?" Cristina echoed. "You guys finally settled on a name?"

"We're considering it," Meredith nodded. "Daniel was Derek's father's name."

"You sure it's McDreamy's?" Cristina asked, peering more intently at the infant as she moved closer to where Alex was standing.

"Of course he is," Meredith insisted, looking at her incredulously. "Why would you even ask that?"

"He's like…bald," Cristina protested, pointing to the child. "Like McDreamy was ever-"

"He's not bald," Meredith objected, rolling her eyes.

"He's got split ends," Alex noted, repeating her prior point with a baffled nod and a shrug as he returned Cristina's puzzled look with one of his own.

"You're both impossible," Meredith huffed, grumbling as they looked at each other and then back at her, still confused.

"You just figure that out?" Bailey snickered as she entered the room. "I've been saying that for years, about all three of you," she added, looking them over smugly. "So, this is who all the fuss is about?" she asked, softening her voice as she approached the infant.

"You want him," Alex offered gruffly, placing the baby into Bailey's arms as she nodded eagerly.

"I mean it, Alex," Meredith repeated, eying him sternly as he reached for his pager.

"On call," he noted triumphantly, holding up his pager like a trophy.

"Me too," Cristina crowed, happily clutching the patient charts to her chest. "With Altman," she added proudly. "You know, in a real specialty. I'll leave the kid stuff to him," she smirked, nodding dismissively toward Alex.

"Since they're afraid of you, anyway?" Alex taunted, as they moved toward the door.

"What can I say?" Cristina agreed. "They relate to you as an equal."

"Guys," Meredith interrupted. "Lunch. Here. Remember?"

"Cardio," Cristina repeated, raising the charts over her head again as she left the room.

"Alex?" Meredith prodded.

"Whatever," he grumbled. "Peds. Mini-McDreamy's. This place is crawling with kids …" he muttered, his voice trailing off as he left the room.

"So much for my baby sitters," Meredith shrugged, shaking her head as she watched Bailey rocking Daniel.

"Those two?" Bailey chortled.

"Not together," Meredith corrected.

"They'll be back," Bailey reassured her, cooing to the infant she bounced in her arms.

"I know," Meredith agreed, reaching over to touch Daniel's hand.

"I wouldn't let Yang watch my child, though," Bailey noted, shaking her head as she fussed with Daniel's baby blanket. "I tried that once; never again."

"That bad, huh?" Meredith winced. She'd tried to imagine any circumstance under which her best friend might excel at baby sitting, the way she did at everything else. Nothing was coming immediately to mind.

"Um-huh," Bailey nodded. "But Karev…"

"What about him?" Meredith prodded reluctantly, almost wincing again.

"He might be okay," Bailey nodded. "I think I'd trust him with this little guy. Especially since he's going into Peds-"

"He is?" Meredith blurted, suddenly surprised. "I think he'd have told me that," she noted suspiciously, raising her eyebrows at Bailey.

"He doesn't know it yet," Bailey insisted, shaking her head. "You believe that?" she chortled, as much to the baby as to Meredith. "Fool probably still thinks he's going into Plastics."

"Well," Meredith insisted, with a defiance she was still trying very hard to feel. "I'm still going into Neuro, no matter what anybody says."

"Who's said anything?" Bailey asked, looking up abruptly, suddenly serious.

"No one," Meredith admitted hesitantly, ignoring the pile of parenting guides on her bedside table as Bailey placed Daniel in her arms. "But it's… it's going to be harder now."

"That's right," Bailey nodded, eying her closely. "It's going to be a lot harder now."

"My mother made a choice," Meredith said softly, finally breaking the lingering silence between them as she traced a finger tentatively along Daniel's cheek. "I don't know if I-"

"We all make choices," Bailey noted sternly, frowning as her pager buzzed. "It comes with the job."

"How do you know when they're the right ones?" Meredith asked.

"When I figure that out, I'll let you know," Bailey replied briskly, reaching for her pager as she moved abruptly toward the door. "I'll stop back later," she called behind her as she left, off, Meredith imagined, to some exciting medical emergency.

"I'll still be here," Meredith muttered, watching as harried nurses and doctors hurried past the door, while Daniel lay peacefully in her arms. She'd been one of them, scarcely two months before, until she'd entered the maternity ward, and found herself surrounded by insipid stuffed animal, and met with curious bright blue eyes staring back at her, as if she was supposed to know what to do.

"I've never done this before, you know," she whispered to her son, who settled closer into her chest with a huge yawn. Leaning back into her pillow, she remained nearly motionless for almost an hour, watching him intently, and listening closely for any cry or whimper or hiccup, for any sign that she needed to.. to … to do something, or to call someone to help, or to ..to.. to anything… until he calmly drifted off to sleep.

Scanning him vigilantly, she rose slowly from her bed, crossing the room to place him in his bassinet. Returning to her bed, she turned on the room's television, switching among the mid morning talk shows, all documenting how bad complexions, poor fashion senses, weak marriages, wrinkles, obesity, unattractive home décor, misbehaving pets, political scandal, war and natural disasters all had the same basic source: bad mothers.

Shutting the television off, she turned back to her bedside table, fingering some of the parenting guides she'd gotten over the past few months, each cataloging the grave harms that could befall her child- if his bath water was too hot or too cold, if he ate too much or too little protein, or birthday cake, if she was too forgiving or too strict, if she was too encouraging, or too critical, if the nursery was the wrong color, or he wasn't exposed to classical music as an infant, or preferably, before birth.

Flipping absently through one thick manual, she wondered if Derek had gotten the car seat bolted in properly, and if he'd measured the gaps between the slats on the crib, to ensure that Daniel would be safe. _Of course he had_, she muttered, swapping the manual for one of the medical journals stashed amid the pile of books.

_He'd be Father Goose_, she thought wryly. He'd always know what to do; he wouldn't be the one Daniel complained about twenty years from now, when he was regaling Dr. Phil or Oprah with the horrors of his childhood home.

The word still jolted her: They'd leave the hospital in two days, and go on to the new dream house on the hill three weeks later, the house that still seemed too big, and whose layout still seemed so foreign, and so oddly empty, despite the truckloads of furniture that had arrived over the past month, some of which still sat placidly in huge plastic casings, amid mountains of moving boxes and piles of fresh saw dust.

He'd need a home, she reminded herself, glancing toward the bassinet, not just a big house on a hill; he'd need to know it was his home, too, not just a showcase for his mother's expensive furnishings, which he'd never be allowed to touch; and his family, not just a bunch of people who were stuck with him, until he left to make them proud.

Fingering the glossy medical journal, she scanned the article titles, describing surgical techniques and clinical trials that she'd have to learn about after her maternity leave.

She was already falling behind, she thought idly, at the only thing that she was ever any good at, the only part of her life that she'd ever believed – at least, before the insipid stuffed animals and the dream house on the hill - that she wouldn't screw up.

Tracing her fingers idly across the gleaming pages, she wondered when her own name would appear on the cover, whether she'd be a Grey then, or a Shepherd, or a Grey-Shepherd, whether settling on Daniel's last name would be even more challenging then deciding his first, since they didn't do post-it birth certificates, and if he'd ever ask about his grandmother, the brilliant surgeon, and what she'd tell him if he did.

She wondered if she'd ever tell him about his grandmother's intense blue eyes, or the skilled surgeon's fingers that ran in the family, and what he'd make of his mother – the neurosurgeon, she still insisted, no matter what the books said – and how she'd defend herself from Oprah and Dr. Phil, when they glowered that she should have known better.

She wondered what else she'd inherited from the great Ellis Grey, and when her own rock steady surgeon's hands would finally stop trembling whenever Daniel whimpered or gurgled, and how intricate brain surgery could seem less daunting then those bright blue eyes, and whether that fear would have made sense to her own mother, too much sense.

"Here," Alex barked gruffly, swinging briskly into the room and tossing her a brown paper sack, his abrupt entry interrupting her musings.

"From Joe's?" Meredith asked, setting the books and journals aside and eagerly opening the bag.

"Double peppers and sour kraut," he nodded, grimacing.

"You don't know what you're missing," she insisted, immediately unwrapping her burger and grabbing some napkins.

"I can smell it from here," he scowled, dragging a plastic chair over to her bedside and digging out his own sandwich. Sniffing suspiciously at his food, he peeled off the extra onions, handing them over to her while she forked over her pudding pack.

"Bailey stopped by earlier. She says you're going into Peds," Meredith noted, feigning innocence as she watched his panicked response from the corner of her eye, while piling the onions onto her burger.

"No way," he protested, shaking his head vigorously as he swallowed.

"That would be good," she teased. "He's my first born son," she noted, trying to keep a straight face as she motioned toward the bassinet. "I want to make sure his baby sitters-"

"I'm no freaking baby sitter," he growled, slurping his soda.

"You'll be right there anyway-" she started.

"I told you," he interrupted. "I already-"

"You're being ridiculous," she insisted, cutting him off. "The new house will be done in three weeks. Derek and I are moving-"

"And leaving the kid with me?" he snorted.

"Derek and I are moving, with Daniel," she corrected smugly, "and you and Lexi are staying at my place. Maybe getting a roommate-"

"We don't-" Alex objected.

"I'm not throwing you out into the street," she retorted. "You're my family, and I-"

"She's your family," he smirked. "I'm-"

"You're dirty uncle Sal," she reminded him smugly. "Every family needs one."

"That what he's going to call me?" Alex snorted, motioning to the bassinet as he shoveled French fries into his mouth.

"Only if you take him to the play ground next summer and have him flirting with the six month olds," she insisted, rolling her eyes at him.

"That's when I started," he retorted, stopping just short of sticking his tongue at her.

"Figures," she agreed. "But-"

"I'm not a charity case," he cut her off again, shaking his head.

"Of course not," she said, eying him carefully as he studied the floor. "You're…"

"A baby catcher?" Cristina filled in, toting her lunch and another patient chart as she entered the room and grabbed a seat. "We're talking about Evil Spawn, right?" she asked, barely looking up as she dug into her salad.

"We're talking about my new house, actually," Meredith corrected, "and when you guys are going to baby sit."

"C-a-r-d-i-o," Cristina insisted, drawing the word out slowly as she devoured her meal. "Really, Mer, when are you coming back to work?"

"I'm not sure yet," she admitted, watching as Alex moved to retrieve Daniel, who'd begun fussing in his bassinet, and dropped back into his seat.

"See," Cristina taunted, motioning toward Alex. "Baby catcher."

"See," Alex noted, nodding smugly to Daniel as he pointed to Cristina, "crack whore."

"Alex," they both snapped in unison.

"What?" he protested.

"I don't want him talking like that," Meredith insisted.

"Like what?" Alex scowled, glancing awkwardly down at Daniel as the baby drew closer into him.

"If you have him baby sit," Cristina snickered, "the kid's first word will be like, "Dude."

"Or worse," Alex added, glaring at her.

"Do you really want that for your son," Cristina asked, while finishing off her salad and peeling a banana. "Will that get him into medical school?"

"Medical school?" Meredith repeated blankly. "He's three days old."

"It's a competitive world," Cristina pointed out, flipping her patient chart open. "How old were you when you got your Anatomy Jane?"

"At least five," Meredith retorted.

"Forget that," Alex insisted. "He needs a football."

"He's three days old," Meredith repeated. "And what about head injuries?"

"Head injuries," Alex scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, like yours," Cristina noted, eyeing him smugly. "You're right, Mer. You don't want him to be a dumb jock. He should have an Anatomy Jane, or an Anatomy Jim, or both, and if he goes to Stanford-"

"Boys don't play with freaking dolls," Alex insisted, glowering back at Cristina as he shifted the infant closer to him.

"Guys," Meredith interrupted, reaching for one of her parenting guides. "Most of these authors say that I shouldn't push him to do things like that, that I shouldn't-"

"What do they know?" Cristina scoffed, tossing the remains of her lunch into the trash and leaning back in her chair. "Did those people raise doctors? Scientists? What are their qualifications?" she demanded. "What out-comes did they get with their kids?"

"Outcomes," Meredith echoed incredulously.

"I just don't think you should accept mediocrity," Cristina insisted, motioning vaguely toward Alex as she checked her pager.

"Does that mean you're volunteering to baby sit?" Meredith prodded, watching her friend's horrified expression return.

"Only if he scrubs in with me," Cristina smirked, scanning the patient chart perched on her lap as she described her latest surgery, and continuing to spar with Alex until her pager went off, again, and she left gleefully to begin post-operative rounds with Altman.

"I miss that," Meredith sighed, watching wistfully as Cristina left.

"Yang?" Alex asked sourly. "You just-"

"No, surgery," Meredith corrected.

"You've only been out for a few weeks," Alex reminded her with a shrug. "It's not like…" he noted, his voice dropping off suddenly.

"No," she agreed quietly. "It's not like I got fired. But now," she breathed, "it's just, it's different."

"Doesn't have to be," Alex shrugged again, shifting Daniel to his other side.

"Yes it does," Meredith snapped. "Everything's different," she insisted, motioning toward her son. "I have to be different. I have to be… I have to be not her."

"You already are," he pointed out gruffly, standing carefully and handing Daniel to her as he checked his own pager.

"How?" she demanded, settling the baby in her arms. "I have no freaking clue what I'm doing," she reminded him.

"You've got McDreamy," he noted, rolling his eyes. "You've got Yang," he continued, resetting his pager with a scowl. "Bailey's on your side," he continued as he moved toward the door. "Even your squirrelly sister can't wait to baby sit," he added, with a twisted semi-smirk. "You've got, you've got… a lot of help, you've got…

"Dirty uncle Sal," she taunted, wrinkling her nose at him as she pulled Daniel closer to her.

"No," he grumbled, shaking his head as he walked toward the hallway.

"You really think I won't screw this up?" she called after him, eying him closely as he hovered in the doorway.

"You know what not to do," he muttered, shuffling his feet impatiently. "Just make sure he doesn't end up like us."

"That all, huh?" she smirked.

"And get him a football," Alex growled. "You don't want him being a wimp," he added, turning to leave.

"You're not moving out," she yelled after him, so sharply that she stopped him in his tracks. "It's your home, it's-"

"I'm not a charity-" he retorted.

"He doesn't really have split ends, does he?" Meredith interrupted, cutting him off as she looked more closely at her child's head.

"So what if he does?" Alex asked, baffled again.

"He's not supposed to be like us, remember. He's not supposed to be like me," she retorted quietly, lightly touching Daniel's face.

"So how do you fix split ends, then?" Alex demanded impatiently.

"Conditioner?" Meredith volunteered hesitantly.

"Dude," Alex scowled, "you're so going to turn him into a wimp."

"You're not moving out," she repeated softly, still scanning Daniel's head.

"I'm no freaking baby sitter," he grumbled, still not looking at her.

"I know," she agreed, nodding as she settled Daniel more comfortably in her arms.

"Fine, I'm not moving, whatever," he growled, exhaling heavily as he left the room, still muttering to himself.

"Bailey was right," Meredith whispered, nodding as she met Daniel's curious bright blue gaze again. "He's so going into Peds."

"Me?" she said to the infant softly, in response to a slight gurgle. "No, I'm going into Neuro," she announced, reaching for one of her glossy journals, and flipping it open as she looked back at him. "Want to see a nice Glioma?"


End file.
